


Overwatch Short Fics & Tumblr Prompts

by rosepetalrevolution



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Flirting, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Short Fics, Tumblr Prompt, Unresolved Romantic Tension, burn wound
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 14:37:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19443460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosepetalrevolution/pseuds/rosepetalrevolution
Summary: A collection of short pieces written, usually per prompts on Tumblr, about the characters of Overwatch.





	Overwatch Short Fics & Tumblr Prompts

For all that these Vishkar goons had, for all that they could build, Sombra was desperately in want of a simple biotic canister.

It had been three days since she and Widowmaker had taken the small compound outside of Istanbul, picking off the guards who patrolled the perimeter with little resistance and repurposing the shields that wrapped the house to suit their own security. They’d expected to find a small army inside, prepared to retaliate against the intruders. Instead, they wandered through empty, silent rooms, more unsettling than an open firefight would have been. It was only when they reached the back of the house, a living room furnished so minimally that it was barely recognizable as a living room, that they found its sole occupant. She was armed with some kind of hard light projection beam, which she promptly turned on Sombra, scalding an exposed patch on her shoulder. At the sight of Widowmaker’s rifle, however, she stood down, dropped the weapon to the floor in concession.

Vishkar had entrusted the entirety of their budding operation in the area to this single woman, who identified herself by the call sign Symmetra, and Sombra was impressed. Sure, she had a team now that she was working with Talon, but that was mostly Reaper’s doing, his foolhardy insistence on trying to keep tabs on her. But even in her days with Los Muertos, Sombra had always worked best as a lone operative, capable of doing far more on her own when she didn’t have to babysit someone less competent.

The plan was to occupy the house for as long as was necessary for Talon’s council to negotiate with Vishkar’s board for a peaceful conclusion to the incident, an outcome that could be bought for certain favors and loyalties. Even knowing this, Sombra had not planned for the extent of her boredom while under lockdown. Warnings came through from Doomfist himself that too many ‘extracurricular activities’ would jeopardize the mission, and thus she needed to maintain radio silence and keep offline. For as much as she loved Widowmaker, the woman was not much of a conversationalist, though Sombra had certainly allowed herself to daydream about the kind of things that the sniper inevitably could have discussed in impressive detail were she inclined to do so.

Symmetra, despite her best efforts to keep to herself, inevitably became her target.

Wisely, the architect did not wish to discuss personal matters. Sombra respected that, but she also knew herself. A day in, she told Symmetra: “In the interest of, you know, ‘honesty,’ I’m just gonna tell you right now that I’ll learn it all anyway once we’re all outta here. But sure, keep your secrets for now.” Symmetra puzzled over the words a bit with a frown. Sombra focused on her hostage’s eyelashes and the way her lips pursed as she thought.

The second day, it was “What would you say to a trade? A truth for a truth, one about me, one about you?” Symmetra closed her eyes and hummed softly for a moment before accusing Sombra of making a disingenuous proposal she had no intention of following up on. Sombra chuckled and admitted that she’d been found out.

But today, as her blistered shoulder scabbed over and grew itchy, Sombra was irritable. She sat on the vanity of one of the house’s bathrooms and rubbed at the wound in frustration; there was temporary relief in the application of pressure, sure, but each time she pulled her hand away, it exposed painful, raw skin.

A flash of blue in the mirror caught her eye. Symmetra, her dress the color of the coastal waters Sombra had once loved to explore, approached with a small jar in hand.

“It won’t heal if you keep picking at it.”

Sombra rolled her eyes, but she also felt her cheeks go warm. “Well it wouldn’t need to heal if you hadn’t torched me with your laser beam.”

One eyebrow raised, Symmetra tilted her head and looked at Sombra as though she were speaking in riddles. “Do you really blame me for defending myself?”

“…No.” Sombra looked away, not in the mood to argue with someone who, through circumstances and Symmetra’s own demeanor, she had not yet been able to understand.

“Then here.” Symmetra dipped her fingers into the jar, scooping a soft green cream out before rubbing it onto Sombra’s shoulder. It was cool, and Sombra couldn’t help but shudder in relief. “This is what they’d give us when we’d burn ourselves practicing with hard light in school. Children tend not to be as coordinated as the process requires, but there’s lessons to be learned in those accidents.” Symmetra’s touch was soft, and Sombra’s pain had eased considerably.

Sombra hadn’t realized she had closed her eyes until she felt Symmetra release her shoulder, at which point she opened them in search of more. She turned to stare Symmetra in the eyes, unable to care whether her own face revealed something soft instead of her typical, carefully practiced façade. A moment passed, the silence full and heavy and intoxicating, before Sombra looked away and laughed quietly.

“So you started learning this magic as a kid, huh?”

Symmetra’s mouth curved slowly, her own smile a subtle thing that had no right to stop Sombra’s heart as it did. “I suppose that can be your secret for today.”


End file.
